


Naughty Picnic

by definitelyflowers



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Anniversary, Cis Male Character, Fingerfucking, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Graveyard Sex, Graveyard picnic, M/M, POV First Person, Penetrative Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Male Character, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 21:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11609163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelyflowers/pseuds/definitelyflowers
Summary: It's Neil and Damien's three month anniversary, and our local goth dad has something special planned for his someone special.





	Naughty Picnic

**Author's Note:**

> I literally couldn't control myself. Have fun.

I join Damien by the grave. This has been a weekly occurrence since our first date, but even so, I’m jittery. Nervous.

Damien has promised me something special.

It’s our three-month anniversary, and there is a smile on his face as we smooth out the black blanket over two old graves. Matilda and Darren Peterson, loving wife and husband, who died within two months of each other in 1894.

“How long do you think they were married?” I ask.

Damien hums and sets the basket on the ground.

“I’m not sure. We could research it,” he suggests, kneeling on the blanket and patting the spot next to him for me to sit. His cheeks are dusky pink, and he runs his palms along the fabric of his sheer stockings. My eyes follow their trail up to where his skirt ends, further up than any Victorian would be able to handle. Even I, used to his extreme fashion statements, find my mouth drying out at the sight. His long, slender legs are gorgeous, and I divert my gaze to the grass to keep from becoming too excited.

Still, my arousal presses against my jeans. Damien helped me pick them out one day at the mall, insisting that a dark wash would bring out the natural glow of my skin. If the way he looks at me now is any indication, I would say he’s proud of his choice.

I stand there a moment longer, pretending to read the graves nearest us, before his hand touches mine.

“Sit beside me?”

“Y-yes, of course, dear.”

“I like that you call me that,” Damien says and begins to unpack our lunch. It’s classic Victorian fare. Small cucumber sandwiches, a jar of unsweetened tea (anachronistic, but Damien knows it’s my favorite), and a variety of cheeses paired with a large assortment of crackers.

He hasn’t worn his contacts today, mostly at my request, and I gaze into the dark pools of his eyes with more than a wistful sigh before letting myself explore his body.

Without touching, of course.

Out here, in public.... That would be inappropriate. I’m sure Damien would object, and so I content myself with how slender his fingers are as he undoes the top button of his blouse, then the second, then the third.

His chest is pale white.

“I like calling you that,” I respond after a long moment of silence. “You really are dear to me.”

Damien closes the distance between us and places his lips on mine. They’re so soft, and I hold the back of the neck to bring him closer, to deepen our kiss. The rest of the world melts away as he opens his mouth in response to my tongue. We know each other well after so many months, know how to draw out soft moans and quiet gasps, and his gentle touch works me into a frenzy I don’t want to resist.

He pulls away, breathing deeply.

“Neil, you devil. You surely don’t expect a gentleman like me to respond so eagerly to promises of pleasure, do you?” Damien chuckles and smacks my arm lightly. He is bright red, though, and his words are a request to be flirted with. He likes to play coy, but when we are alone, the fantasies of his _literature_ begin to surface.

“Darling Damien, I’m hurt that you would think of me in such a dishonorable light. Am I not a proper suiter? Would you rather another at your side, accompanying you on this wonderful afternoon?”

Rather than answering, Damien climbs onto my lap, straddling me as he leans down to slot our mouths together once again in a deep, lavishing kiss. I blink a few times, shocked by the grind of his hips against my crotch. The flimsy panties he wears does little to hide the wet heat rapidly developing between his legs, and I shudder, enraptured by how practiced he is at kissing.

We melt together. I hold him close and thrust up, relishing in the groan of need as he meets me halfway, our bodies alight. His long hair falls in delicate waves around his shoulders, and his eyes are squeezed shut as he breathes, harshly, through his nose.

“Neil,” he whispers between kisses. Then, when I angle us just right so that my cock grinds against his arousal, Damien moans, long and low and full of need. “Fuck me?”

“Here?” I ask.

Damien pulls back and tilts his head to the side, exposing the skin of his neck. I want to sink my teeth in it, to mar his nearly translucent skin with as many bruises as he will allow, but his expression has gone serious, worried.

“Is that not what— Am I being too forward?” Damien cups my cheeks with his trembling hands.

“I want to fuck you,” I say, completely flustered by the conversation. “Just.... Here?”

He smiles shyly and presses a chaste kiss to my lips.

“Here,” Damien confirms.

“Why?”

His hands slide to my chest. Damien undoes the knot of my tie while continuing to leverage me into compliance with his sweet kisses.

It’s working.

My head rolls to the side so that he has more space to work. His teeth nip at my skin, and I gasp at the pain-pleasure of it, at the knowledge that we are most certainly going to be having sex today, for the first time, in a cemetery.

“It’s dangerous.” He begins to unbutton my shirt. “Anyone can see us.”

“What about the snacks?”

Damien’s laugh is breathy and light.

“I intended on working up an appetite, Neil. Don’t you want a taste of something else first? Or would you rather I taste you?”

“Oh! I—” My cheeks are enflamed. The normal thought processes of logic and adult responsibility fall to the wayside as he reaches a hand between us to unzip my jeans. Damien gives my cock a few good strokes through the black briefs I’m wearing, and I grab his ass in return, palming the firm muscle while whispering his name. “Is this the something special?”

“You guessed it.”

Damien switches to rubbing the head of his dick with his fingers, gasping and shuddering as he pleasures himself on top of me. I watch, unable to speak, as he throws his head back and grinds against his hand.

“Let me,” I say. Without waiting for a yes, I shove up his skirt and expose the top of his stockings to the world. They are held in place by black garters, and god, I’ve never seen a man so sexy. His panties bulge where is hand sits. When he pulls out his fingers, they glisten with moisture.

I grab his hand and pop them into my mouth, running my tongue over and between them, hinting my plan without words using words. Damien’s eyes widen then shut, his face bright red.

His free hand goes to my shoulder to steady himself. The other joins it when I let him go, and then I am free to slip my own fingers into his panties. They are lacy and black, a fine material that I plan on ruining.

I push into him slowly to test the waters. Damien rocks against my hand, wanting more, and I give it to him. His breaths are heavy, his mouth open in a soft _O_ as I curl forward and press against the inner walls of his heat while my thumb flicks along the outside, tracing the top of his dick with smooth precision and a knowing smirk. My wife liked it this way, once upon a time, and it seems Damien appreciates how I work just as much as she did.

Damien has an expression of utter bliss as I slide a third finger into his heat. He is so warm and tight around me, and I force myself into calmness while he fucks himself against my hand.

My name is on his lips. Over and over he repeats it, bringing himself inches from the edge before stopping to catch his breath.

“Against the headstone,” he commands.

Damien crawls off me and waits, biting his bottom lip. His hands are flat on his thighs, and the separation of muscle and bone leads my eyes right to his soaked panties and expectant heat.

I scoot until my back rests against the cold granite surface of Mr. Peterson’s grave. Maybe I’m too eager, but Damien is beautiful and sexy and I’ve been waiting for this moment since I first saw him enraged at the mall. He’s so serious about everything, even this, even while acting coy and playful.

When he is satisfied with my position, he joins me once again, hands caressing my face. Damien leans down and captures me in another kiss, but this one is softer. There is a heat in it, one that begs to be satisfied, yet we move to each other slowly, drawing out the experience for all it is worth.

“I really like you,” he says as he dips down to kiss my jaw. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone before. You’re handsome and sweet. No other man has ever wanted to court me in this sort of fashion.”

Damien nods his head to the rest of the cemetery, dotted with trees and long grass. We are in a far corner the groundskeeper hasn’t bothered to maintain due to the age of the graves, and despite the very public space, I doubt we’re at risk of being discovered.

I push my underwear down. My cock jumps out immediately, hard and ready for Damien.

“I like you, too,” I say as I stroke myself. Damien’s eyes are fixated on the movement of my hand. “You’re interesting and so... multi-faceted.”

He flushes red.

“Stop.”

“It’s true. You’ve got the adorable gothic exterior, and inside is an intelligent man who loves animals and caring for people. You know how to make a wicked salad, how to sew, and you have a garden that is absolutely to die for.”

Damien pushes a strand of hair behind his ear and diverts his gaze to the blanket.

“You’re being generous.”

“I’m being truthful.” I grab his sides and grind our hips together. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes. Honestly, I’ve been wanting to do this since I spotted you lifting all those boxes when you first moved in. Joseph beat me to the cookie punch.”

Damien pouts, and I laugh.

“Forget Joseph. He doesn’t respect anyone.”

“That’s true.” Damien’s arms encircle my shoulders. He presses his forehead into the crook of my neck. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you, Neil.”

“Now who’s being generous?”

Damien and I share another kiss as I bring my hand back to his crotch. His panties slip out of the way, and he settles fully onto my lap, pressing the head of my cock through the first tight layer of muscle. I gasp as his heat surrounds me, wet and wanting.

“Is it good?” He asks. There is a nervous edge to his voice, and I cup his cheeks, gently putting our lips back together.

“It’s wonderful,” I say.

He sinks lower. Inch by inch, Damien takes me in, and I steady my racing heart to stop myself from grabbing him by the hips and plunging myself fully into his body. It takes a long, arduous minute for him to settle against my lap, but when he does, we both let out a sigh of relief.

Then he takes control. He grabs the tombstone behind me and uses it to leverage himself back up and down again. His arms shake as he picks up his pace, filling himself faster and faster. I thrust up to meet him, and soon we find our rhythm.

The empty cemetery fills with the slap of skin against skin, our heavy breathing, and the rustle of leaves as the wind blows through.

I grab Damien by the hips. My nails dig into the skin just about the bones of his pelvis, and my thrusts grow harder as I bury myself deeper inside him each time.

He uses my hold on him to lean back, changing our angle with one hand on my shoulder and the other rubbing furiously at his dick. His whole body has gone from white to light pink. His black hair sticks to his sweaty skin. He is beautiful, on the verge of orgasm, and my name spills from his kiss-bruised lips. Louder and louder, Damien moans, once again changing our position so that one arm is flung over my shoulders while he brings himself closer.

Our mouths crash together as Damien comes, practically screaming into the kiss as he rides out his orgasm, his body shaking with the power.

His heat contracts around me. It milks my cock, sends shockwaves through my system, and I find my release deep inside him. Damien gasps for air while I slump over, twitching from the intense pleasure of our fuck.

“I— _oh my goodness_ ,” Damien says. Then he giggles and covers my face in butterfly kisses.

I grin lazily, hand running up and down Damien’s side.

“You’re amazing.”

Damien slides off my lap and adjusts his panties and skirts, flushing bright red.

“You don’t mind if I tell you a secret, do you? It’s rather embarrassing?” He keeps his eyes on the picnic basket as he unpacks our little sandwiches and tea.

I sit up.

“No. I’d love to learn more about you.”

“Ah, well,” Damien picks at his nails, “you’re my first.”

I blink.

“You have a son.”

Damien turns an even brighter shade of red, and I’m afraid he might pass out from the amount of blood circulating through his cheeks.

“Yes, _I know that_. You’re my first since I.... since I, well,” he motions to himself, “since all this.”

“Oh.”

“...yeah.”

I take his hand in mine.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” It’s clear he’s uncomfortable. I bring his hand up to my lips and kiss his knuckles. Damien rolls his eyes at the action, but a wisp of a smile crosses his features.

“For trusting me. For letting me be a gentleman to you. I’m not joking when I say I like you, Damien. I mean every bit of it, and I think maybe it can be more than like.”

“Me too.”

He wiggles into the spot next to me, grabbing my arm and placing it around his shoulders. Then he snuggles in. His eyes shut, and he sighs happily.

I press a kiss to his forehead.

“You ready to eat?”

“Very much so. Neil?”

“Hm?” I already have a cucumber sandwich stuffed halfway into my mouth. Damien laughs.

“Thanks.”

We grin at each other and dig into our picnic. The time passes in comfortable silence intermingled with conversations about anything and everything, and things are different. My life is turning into love, and I can tell by Damien’s shy laughter, he feels the same.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can request stories [here](https://definitelyflowers.tumblr.com/)


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